


Reciprocate

by virginholmes



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginholmes/pseuds/virginholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:<br/>It's Sherlock's birthday and he's having none of it. John finds out and chaos ensues.<br/>From/for dustychica on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocate

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt filler for dustychica on Tumblr who suggested this for when I was bored...sorry for the delay x
> 
> Anyway, this one got away from me. It was supposed to be a nice 500 word ish fluff piece but it met me and turned angsty (sorta).  
> So anyway, I hope this is what you were wanting (more or less).  
> Enjoy x

John woke to the sound of raised voices coming from down stairs. He fumbled around in his bed for a minute, losing a spectacular fight with the bed linen.

Finally reaching an agreement, he let the bed linen go and rose into a sitting position. John rubbed his face and tumbled around his bedroom looking for some clean clothes. Having successfully located some, he headed down stairs first to take a shower, to mentally prepare himself to break up an argument with a fully grown man and a skull.

Having got dressed in the bathroom, John wandered out into the living room  finding not the chipped remains of bone, he instead found the chipped remains of a typical Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes argument. The older Holmes has apparently said something to Sherlock that resulted is his temper spiking.

Oh goody.

Mycroft spotted John and his annoyance dissipated.

“Good morning John. I trust you had a pleasant sleep?”

It took a while of John to respond, his lack of ‘pleasant sleep’ was catching up to him.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I mean yes it was good.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Replied Mycroft silkily. “I was just asking my brother’s help in a case, he just seems so eager to help.”

Behind him, he heard Sherlock scoff and shuffle forward into view.

“Mycroft, you know exactly well I do not work for anonymous clients, please leave us, at least in some manageable state of peace.”

Mycroft resigned, and headed towards the door; “Fine, fine… Oh and Sherlock? Happy Birthday.” He quickly disappeared down the stairs, leaving a confused John and a murderous Sherlock in his wake.

“Sherlock?” John was the first to speak, making his way cautiously over to the detective.

“What did he mean ‘happy birthday’”?

Sherlock fumbled around the room for a bit before answering.

“Nothing.”

“Obviously not _nothing_. Is it your birthday?” John asked bewilderingly.

Sherlock avoided John’s stern gaze. “No…”

“Sherlock, for God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not important.” Sherlock muttered.

“Christ Sherlock, yes it is!”

It seemed Sherlock’s temper had been building ever since Mycroft had arrived, his next question was delivered rather hotly; “Why? Why John, is something so pointless, so important to you?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because you’re my friend and friends care about that stuff?” John countered just as hotly, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“I’ll ask you again, why does it matter? All it is is celebrating someone not being dead!” Responded Sherlock ardently.

John stood his ground and Sherlock came barrelling towards him. “Yes, ok it is celebrating people ‘not being dead’ but it is celebrating the years that person has lived! Not just that they still walk on this earth.”

“Oh give it up John! You only care so much because they were all you had to celebrate in the army, people being _alive_.”

“What the fuck, Sherlock. What the actual fuck. I don’t know what has got into you lately but it’s pissing me off. And I don’t need it. Happy fucking Birthday.” John spat, he gave his ‘friend’ one last scathing look and walked out, seething.

********

As he watched his best and only friend rush out of his flat, Sherlock slumped into his arm chair, suddenly defeated. Baiting John was a mistake and he knew it. Mycroft wanted for John to know about his birthday but Sherlock didn’t see the point.

After Moriarty’s entrance into their lives, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to keep John as emotionally distant as possible. He saw Moriarty’s hand unfold, when John stepped into the ‘playing’ area wearing those explosives.

Ever since the meeting at St. Barts, when John talked for him, thinking back afterwards, he could tell that that was the moment Jim had pinpointed John as Sherlock’s main weakness and definitely after their duel performance at the pool, their next meeting would jeopardise both of their lives.

Therefore Sherlock felt the only way to minimize the tragedy was to have John remain on ‘flatmate’ terms with him, but he could already see both parties failing to remain at this level of interaction.

He could see how John looked at him when he thought Sherlock wouldn’t notice and he knew John had seen the same coming from himself.

Their level of friendship has grown since the pool incident; he and John had grown stronger but also closer together, resulting in a few more ‘emotionally intense’ arguments. Not unlike the one he had just had.

Sherlock pushed his body from the chair and strolled into the kitchen. If he was going to apologise to John he was going to have to do it properly.

********

 

 

 

John wandered the street of immediate London trying to calm himself down. His and Sherlock’s relationship had changed since the incident and not necessarily for the better.

Well, yes there had been a new level of interaction between them which was nice but just in the past few weeks Sherlock had become distant but almost…longing. Like he _wanted_ to be near John but  refrained from doing so. All of these thoughts and more swirled through John’s head as he passed various shops and cafés, still unsure of why he was still wandering.

Until, he saw in an old antiquities shop, a case of instruments, perfect for the ‘amateur detective’ that his flatmate was. It was encased in soft brown leather and the objects themselves looked almost brand new, glistening in the rare London sunshine.

John went in further to investigate, taking the case over to the cashier. He finally knew what he was looking for; something immeasurable compared to it but something none-the-less to reciprocate what Sherlock had given him, a new objective in life.

********

John approached 221B cautiously, the gift in his hand. He hoped desperately that Sherlock wouldn’t deduce the stupid gift the moment he got in the door but he hoped the imprudent git was in there anyway.

He opened to door to find the flat spotlessly clean and was ready to shout down thanks to their ‘landlady’ Mrs Hudson but was quickly silenced when he saw two cups of tea, waiting by a sleeping Sherlock on the coffee table.

John dropped his gift in surprise, waking Sherlock with a loud thump. He woke with a start but calmed down when he saw John standing there in bewilderment.

“John! I err, started to clean and I made tea and-”

He was cut off mid-sentence due to the fact he had a John Watson now stuck to him in a great hug. He placed his arms awkwardly around his friends back whilst John mumbled into his shoulder.

“Thank you Sherlock, I know it’s hard for you but it means heaps to me. Thank you.”

Sherlock just nodded as John pulled away, receding to pick up his fallen parcel.

“This, this is for you. I know you hate birthdays but considerate it as a late flat-warming present. Because after all the things you have given me, I just need to reciprocate somehow.”

Sherlock took the smooth leather parcel from John’s calloused hands.

He unwrapped the string carefully and nearly gasped at the beauty of it. All these instruments had their own place and looked so carefully crafted.

For once the Great Sherlock Holmes was lost for words, just when John needed them the most.

Instead we stepped forward, fully aware of what he was doing and how it would jeopardise both of them; but he ignored the warning in his hard-drive, overloading with information as he leant into John, placing a swift and firm kiss into the man’s lips.

“Thank you, John.”


End file.
